


and thrice to mine

by TomBowline



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fantasizing, Identity Porn, M/M, One-Sided Attraction No It's Not Yes It Is, proxy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomBowline/pseuds/TomBowline
Summary: So he turns his face away and lets the sergeant thrust roughly into him, lets his neck be bitten and his hips clutched covetously, lets another false name be moaned into his ear. And he thinks, all the while, of what it will be like when he fucks Tozer in return.
Relationships: Cornelius Hickey/Sgt Solomon Tozer, Thomas Armitage/Sgt Solomon Tozer (one-sided)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Hickeyshipping 2020





	and thrice to mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whalersandsailors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/gifts).



> A treat for Hickeyfest, for the prompt "how about some Hickey/Tozer where the only way Tozer will fuck him is if he pretends he's someone else (a sweetheart back home, Lt Little, Armitage, whoever else has Tozer's fancy) and Hickey just Milks this to get whatever he wants from Tozer. OR alternatively maybe it really pisses him off that Tozer does this, and so he gets rough/angry during sex"! i went with a little of each. Not very long, but i hope you'll enjoy it all the same.

Sergeant Tozer has something for him to wear today. 

Most times he just shoves him down by the neck - precisely as much as he is allowed to - and hides his face in the nondescript narrow valley of his back, but today he’s actually brought something of Mr Armitage’s along, a costume piece to feed the farce that he is fucking the gunroom steward and not the caulker’s mate. 

He supposes, as he watches Tozer produce the welsh wig, that he probably deserves this in some twisted-around way - it would seem that fortune, or god, or whomever has a sense of humor. Unsatisfied with just one name, he had taken by force another, and now in this backhanded boon he has three. _Tommy, oh, Tommy._ It turns his stomach. 

“Thought you might wear this,” Tozer is saying - at least he has the good grace to look somewhat abashed as he fingers the wool stitching like it’s something precious, barely visible as it is in the filtered light of the orlop.

“Oh, really.” He stares at the shabby knit cap with something like a sneer. “Swiped that off Armitage’s bunk, did you?” _Same time as you were sniffing around his dirty drawers,_ he barely keeps from adding.

Tozer looks truly affronted. “Course not,” he mumbles. “Borrowed it.” This, somehow, seems even more pathetic. He lets his disdain flow freely onto his face as he picks up the knit cap and fits it neatly over his hair, so unsuitably light and straight. “Couldn’t just,” Tozer starts, but he seems to realize when faced with the back of his partner’s head that he no longer has an audience for conversation. 

He could, if he so chose, spit back at Tozer that his _Tommy_ would go arse-up or throat-open for him with little more than a crook of Tozer’s finger, that he’s a special sort of fool not to see it. But that wouldn’t do, wouldn’t serve anyone. Would serve him, the current recipient of the sergeant’s affections, least of all, for where else could he find a cock like that with such a lush and biddable body attached to it? And as for Tozer himself, there’s an air of the preserver about him, for all his brash brazenness, a keen desire to protect and to lead by example. The sergeant would, he thinks, consider it a defilement of some kind to go for what he really wants. Whereas this is - well, clearly Tozer can tell that the man he‘s fucking now is already as dirty as they come. 

So he turns his face away and lets the sergeant thrust roughly into him first with his wide blunt fingers and then with his hard fat prick (Tozer has proved a fast learner, for all his surprising and delicious inexperience in this category of pleasure, and he drills down beautifully into the spot that makes the rough pull of penetration - lovely in its own right but easily overimbibed - smooth out into singing fizzing _good_ ), lets his neck be bitten and his hips clutched covetously, lets another false name be moaned into his ear. And he thinks, all the while, of what it will be like when he fucks Tozer in return. 

In his mind, when he’s prick-deep in this proud puffed-up Marine Sergeant, it’s not Tommy that Tozer will be crying for, or even _Cornelius,_ that absurd name he’s heard drip off Billy Gibson’s lips in unlikely tones of passion. When Tozer’s split open on his cock, tears running down his face like it’s the best thing he’s ever had up him (and he does intend for it to be the _only_ thing the sergeant will ever have up him), he’ll know who it is is fucking him.

The particulars of this eventuality are fuzzy to him - he hasn’t worked out yet where they will be when it happens, what will be going on as regards the ship at large, why Tozer will allow this of him. But he knows in the core of him that it _will_ be allowed, it _will_ happen. He will be let into the loosely-tied ropes of this man’s body and mind and then there will be no room for anyone else there.

It’s this that will make him come, in the end - yes, Tozer’s hand is on his prick, yes, Tozer’s yard is in his arse like a white-hot iron rod, but it is always the vision of Tozer on his back that undoes him. He barely notices the sergeant spilling inside him, dizzy with his own private imaginings; he is only called to some attention when Tozer slips from him and begins to press the seed back into him with wondering fingers. There’s something in that, he thinks, arching back into the touch. Perhaps next time he will get the good sergeant to drop on his knees and tongue it out of his arse. And there, there is the end of it - rushing through him like a grease fire, spurting out of him thick and white onto the sawdust-speckled floor. It’s a relief more than anything.

Tozer doesn’t like to look at him afterwards, but he finds ways to insinuate himself into the sergeant’s vision. He smiles pleasantly as he removes the knit cap and hands it back; plants himself briefly between Tozer and the ladder to make sure he gets the picture. He will know, however briefly he sees it, just who he has been getting pleasure of.


End file.
